Strength and Honor
by CottageGhost
Summary: Homecoming, Indy style :


**_Disclaimer:_** They're not mine, they've never been, and they're not likely to ever be – unfortunately ;-)

**_Author's note:_** For readers unfamiliar with the real Pellew's exploits, the rescue referred to here (in passing, I'll admit) was one of the more daring operations attempted either in Pellew's time or since, and something the good captain seemed to be able to perform like breathing. If you're curious to find out more, do check out C.N. Parkinson's account of it – it compares very favorably with any adventure story you can name.

Okay, enough rambling – on with the show! Hope you enjoy :-)

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_**Strength and Honor**_

I made my way up the side ladder with a touch of trepidation, a feeling wholly foreign to me. I hadn't been back on board the last two weeks, still recovering from the injury I sustained while boarding the _Dutton_. While I appreciated the gratitude of the people and the honors they insisted on showering upon me, I felt quite uncomfortable with all the attention, and longed for the normalcy of every day life on _Indefatigable_. Yet, knowing my officers – and their initiative – I fully expected to be disappointed on that score.

I finally cleared the rail to the sound of the bosun's call, saluting the ensign the moment my feet touched the deck. I took a moment to glance at the men: there was no sign of a cheer going up or of applause about to erupt. I was only given the usual direct, but respectful gaze of welcome I got every time I came back on board. I nodded at Bracegirdle, leaving him in command for the rest of the watch and, breathing a small sigh of relief, made my way somewhat stiffly to my quarters. My back was still sore, and the wet weather wasn't helping; I would have to be careful for a while still.

As I closed the door behind me and surveyed my now-familiar surroundings, I could not help but breathe a sigh of relief. Home at last…

Bracegirdle, bless him, had kept things well organized and running smoothly in my absence, as usual. He had even been thoughtful enough to leave the logbook out for my perusal. Thank God I have him for a First.

I sighed again, but in contentment this time, sitting gingerly at my desk to reacquaint myself with ship's business. It couldn't have been more than ten minutes before my reading was interrupted by a rhythmic, insistent banging. And it seemed to originate from the _Indy_. For a moment, I was totally confused, my mind utterly unable to wrap itself around the possibility of a mutiny on board _Indefatigable_. Still, what else could explain that sudden, organized burst of sound?

I don't like mysteries; I never have. Determined to get to the bottom of this, I pushed myself out of my chair with a wince and reached for my hat and my sword. I was about to open the door when a knock startled me badly. The solidity of the hilt filled my hand. "Come!"

The door opened to reveal Lieutenant Hornblower, bright-eyed and smiling at me. He saluted, then adopted a strangely formal stance. "Captain Pellew, Sir. The crew's compliments and your presence is respectfully requested on deck."

The _crew's_ compliments? _Respectfully requested_? I suddenly felt like I had been struck dumb, unable to understand my own language. Yet, Hornblower didn't seem worried, so I shouldn't worry either… should I?

Giving a simple nod of acknowledgement, I followed him out of my cabin, where I was thrown for another loop as I saw the first of the culprits.

Kennedy, smiling from ear to ear, banging a pike against the bulkhead. He too, I noticed, gave me that peculiar salute.

I clambered up the steps to the upper deck in something of a daze as I realized what my crew was doing. And at that point, I wasn't sure what to feel: flattered by their appreciation for my efforts, or annoyed that they actually bothered to show that appreciation in so public a manner. Lying at anchor as we were, I had no doubt that this racket could be heard all the way to Admiralty House.

The sight that greeted me once on deck, however, made short work of any annoyance I might have felt. Every hand, it seemed, had turned up. They were everywhere: in the rigging, on the forecastle, crowding the main deck with so many bodies it was a wonder anybody could breathe at all. Even the quarterdeck was filled; every single officer who was given the privilege of walking its surface had taken a position there.

And all of them had taken up the rhythm, banging anything from tools to shoes, for Heaven's sake, on any part of the ship they could reach.

"Good heavens!" I heard myself breathe and stopped. I was utterly stunned.

"Gentlemen!" At the sound of Bracegirdle's voice, the noise suddenly stopped, leaving the air strangely still. He turned his bright blue gaze on me, then on the men. "Today, five hundred souls who, by all rights, should have departed this life, are still with us, because of the efforts of one man. For that, we should be thankful." A murmur of assent rippled through the assembled men. "Today, we can once again sing songs about English courage and gallantry, because one of our brothers has demonstrated, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that those qualities still exist. For that also, we should be thankful." The voices grew louder. "But above all, today, our captain, who has once more given us reason to be proud to serve under him, has been returned to us. And for that, we should truly be thankful." The roar that greeted this last was positively deafening. I could feel myself blush – and turn quite speechless. But, of course, Bracegirdle wasn't done. From behind his back, he produced a cup, which he held aloft with the clear intention of proposing a toast. In answer, seemingly out of nowhere, every man in sight produced a cup of his own, which they also held aloft, their eyes now focused on me.

"A toast," boomed out Bracegirdle, "to the bravest man I've ever known, the best captain one could ever wish for, and the best bloody sailor afloat! Gentlemen, I give you Captain Sir Edward Pellew. Strength and honor." As the men answered the toast, Bracegirdle proceeded to drain his cup, then banged it down on the railing, leading the crew in a cheer.

I tried to look peeved at all the attention, heaven knows, but there was no way I could keep up the pretence in the face of such sincerity. Quite despite myself, I nodded and smiled my appreciation as I made my way to the quarterdeck, where I was greeted by Bracegirdle's warm, firm handshake. The rest of the complement there wasn't as forthcoming, to be sure, but I did notice the way they all stood a little taller, a little straighter, as I took my place in their midst. Looking at the now silent crowd before me, I could think of nothing adequate to say in answer to such a show of appreciation and – dare I say it? – affection, even though there was so very much to say. Reaching for the cup Bracegirdle had used, which he quickly refilled for me, I lifted it in turn, looking first at the officers standing on the quarterdeck, then at the rest of men on the main deck. "Gentlemen – " I looked down as I cleared my throat, trying to gather everything I felt for this crew into words that would do those feelings justice. Looking up again, I let the pride and joy I felt to be in charge of such a group of men sweep through me like a great swell, and when the words did finally come to me, I couldn't help but smile at how simple, yet appropriate they were. "A toast: to the bravest men I've ever known, the best crew a captain could ever wish for, and the best bloody sailors afloat!" I had to wait for the roar to die down to finish. "To the _Indefatigable _and her crew. Strength and honor." Drinking deep, I drained the cup dry and, like Bracegirdle, I banged it down on the railing, to the applause and cheers of the men.

I smiled. Aye, it was indeed good to be home.


End file.
